


Souvenir

by Reagenz (Hierophany)



Series: Out of Bounds [2]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Blood Play, Edging, Embarrassment, Excessive Swearing, Face Sitting, Fisting, Glove fucking, Hate fucking, Knife Play, Oral, Other, Overstimulation, Sass, Verbal Degradation, Voyeurism (implied), blackmailing (implied), dubcon, forced throat fucking, half of these aren’t even my kinks idk how I ended up here, physical violence, slight mention of dysphoria, some choking, some of the stuff tagged will come up in later chapters, some unsanitary stuff, stalking (kinda), trans person threatened to be outed (maybe?)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26649199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hierophany/pseuds/Reagenz
Summary: Having been “wound up” for a while makes for desperate decisions, strange bedfellows and questionable compromises.
Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Reader, Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/You, Ghostface (Dead by Daylight)/Reader
Series: Out of Bounds [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1938940
Comments: 2
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to kawaiibooker for the beta!  
> The world is burning so I might as well post self-indulgent porn again. 
> 
> There are a few references to Motel California, the previous work in the series, but you don't need to have read it to enjoy this.
> 
> As with Motel, there are a couple of DbD perk puns hidden over the chapters. First person who finds all four gets a cookie.  
> Lastly, please heed the content warnings as this is a bit on the harder side of porn.

You had been restless for a while. It had started as a slight nagging somewhere close to your gut. A thought or two that you could try to ignore, but not for long. Soon enough, that nagging turned into a deep urge that got worse from trial to trial, slowly swamping your other thoughts. It was making you inattentive. So lost in thought even that you blew up a generator. You _never_ blew up a generator. 

One trial later you barely suppressed a moan when that nasty old bloke with the harpoon gun pressed his shoulder into your crotch while carrying you to a hook. By the way he looked at you afterwards and spat on the ground, he had noticed as well. Fuck. This was getting out of hand.

But what to do about it? The motel would've been the obvious place to go, but it was not quite like the other realms. Much to your frustration, it was not simply conjured by offerings in the flames, as you had tried that often enough. At this point, you felt like that building was summoning you when the time was right and not the other way around. 

So -- what were the alternatives? With the camp having become crowded with so many new faces, it was impossible to find some privacy between the trials. There was no point in time when the logs around the fire were empty anymore and you didn't want to risk getting caught by your friends. Seeking relief for yourself during a match was out of the question as well: The crows would betray your position in no time.

The only options left were to either continue your suffering or to try your luck during "enrichment time". That was what the group had dubbed the phase sometimes granted to the survivors between trials, during which you all were allowed to roam the different pockets of this strange dimension by yourself. On occasion, people would find new clothes to wear or follow the hints bartered from their strange dream state to find useful items or offerings to burn. There was a catch though: Enrichment time meant that the rules and often nonsensical rituals structuring the sacrifices of a trial didn't apply. That brought you a lot of freedom, but not only to you.

Each realm belonged to one of your hunters, and no restrictions also meant that there were no limits to what they could do should they manage to catch you.

As tempting as it had been to, for example, scout the Memorial Institute for medical supplies and research notes, you would be hard-pressed to find anyone who would want to go there voluntarily. If Doctor caught someone, they wouldn't be seen for days on end and come back changed, if they returned at all. It was a risky gamble.

Not taking care of your needs had been impacting your performance for too long, though. You wouldn't need much time in your current state, you tried to reassure yourself as you stepped away from the fire and into the fog.

After a bit of aimless wandering, you could slowly make out shapes of pieces of rubble in front of you. Your heart skipped a beat -- had you found the familiar parking lot again? You couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed as you recognized the blue hue of the forest that covered the Macmillan estate. Its owner was nowhere to be seen as you looked around the demolished mining complex. That was probably for the best, given how your last encounter had ended. Absentmindedly, you lifted your hand to touch the part of your temple where the teeth of the bear trap had been locked on for what felt like hours, almost as if you expected them to still be there. You shook your head. You had other things to worry about.

For now, you just had to find a good hiding spot. The collapsed mining shaft in front of you always smelled faintly of burned meat and gunpowder and it was most literally a dead end. Not ideal. You looked around some more, but you were already growing impatient. Maybe there was a hidden place big enough for you somewhere among the debris? After some careful shuffling between the rusty mining equipment and some crates, always keeping an eye open for traps on the ground, you finally found something. It looked like a big barrel made of concrete with gouges in its center, one of its two openings blocked off by the wall of the building. Maybe something used for construction work? Didn't matter now. 

The dampness in your pants made you feel like you were having a fever, your body seemed to be glowing with heat and every touch felt uncomfortably intense. This daze was pushing away every other thought; you needed to get off now, no matter what. The barrel would hide you from three sides and give you a good view in case someone came toward you from the front. It did, however, not give you ideal options for a possible escape. "Gotta die at least one death today", you muttered under your breath, almost laughing at yourself. It really was kinda sad what life had become for you with how casual you made something as horrible as that sound. 

Quickly you unbuckled your belt and dropped your pants, then sat down on your bare ass to push yourself deep into the barrel. The concrete was so cold it made your cheeks burn, but you hadn't come here to be comfortable. The moment you finally let your hand slide over the dripping wet heat between your legs you shuddered, letting out a low moan. Fucking hell. Going through all of this trouble to be hidden would not help you one bit if you kept making this much noise. But it was hard to restrain yourself now after all this waiting.

And maybe, if you were being very honest with yourself, the thought of getting caught and the horrible consequences that would have was more exciting to you then you'd like to admit.

You were covering your mouth with one hand to muffle those damned noises while you started to work on your sensitive spot with the other one. Lightly touching yourself already produced slick wet sounds that reverberated audibly through the tight concrete space. You silently prayed in shame that they wouldn't be heard. Slowly, you pressed a finger into yourself, but that almost proved to be too much to process. This was ridiculous, when had you become this desperate? Despite feeling dizzy you started moving your hand, first slow, then faster. Not enough. Carefully, you pushed a second finger in, even slower this time, inhaling sharply at the wave of sensation rushing over you. Gods have mercy. You could feel the tension building up inside of you. Moving faster, you almost--

Jolted up, adrenaline immediately pumping through you. The fuck was that noise? God, not now. Why now?! You felt incredibly dumb for it but you almost let out a whine, eyes welling up with tears. That desperate, huh? Fucking hell. _Focus._

It had been a faint sound only, a mechanical clicking maybe? It reminded you of something, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Strange. You stared into the distance. Nothing moved. After waiting a couple more seconds, you slowly released a breath you didn't know you were holding. Maybe you'd made that up...? That didn't even sound convincing in your own head. Your instincts were what kept you alive in this place... and yet. If it had been a killer that had noticed you, why would they hide? You listened for steps in the grass, but your surroundings stayed silent. Probably nothing then. Just another reason to hurry the fuck up and get out of here.

Your fingers started to move again on their own accord, pulling every thought about an outside threat away. Heart still racing in your throat, you could hardly suppress a moan as you pushed deeper, eyes rolling back in your head. You were so close now, just a little bit more...

The sound of metal slowly scraping against the concrete above you made the hair on your arms stand up and your heart drop in an instant: A knife bumping off the gouges you had seen from outside.

"Well, well, well. Look who we got here."

"Oh for FUCK'S SAKE."

You knew that damn voice all too well. Sure enough, the horrid slim white mask of its owner came into your view as Ghostface bent down from above, his head cocked mockingly to the side.

"Diogenes sitting in his barrel, wringing out his tiny little wiene- Oh?"

He paused in his annoying sing-song as his eyes wandered down between your legs. _OH SHIT_. You hit your head hard on the top of the barrel as you instinctively tried to push yourself further away from him, out of his sight. But you knew it was too late now. You were in such deep fucking shit.

"WHAT." You barked, failing hard to make it sound casual with panic coursing through your voice. "Never seen a pussy in your life now, have you."

Hearing the fucking bullshit that just came out of your mouth made you groan internally. He laughed, fully coming around the barrel now and blocking whatever slim means of escape there had been.

"Probably eaten more pussy in my life than you ever will, shithead."

Killers and survivors rarely found sympathy for each other, but for some reason it had been hate at first sight with the two of you. You couldn't even fully remember what had started it, but both of you had gone out of your ways to make the other one's life as miserable as possible.

The last time you two met outside of a trial, you had gotten -- and taken -- the chance to beat the absolute shit out of him, something which you dearly regretted now. The bastard had been mocking you for hiding in a bathroom stall like a coward when you had seen Michael stalking around the labs. That time, the fucker had thought you cornered. He must have stood on the door handle to lean over the wall of the stall just far enough for you to grab him by his dumb nightgown and pull him off balance. He had dropped his knife on the way down, giving you enough time to punch his stupid head hard enough to produce an audible crunch. God, how you wished to be back there. To feel his nose break again under that cheap ugly mask.

But you weren't. And you knew with certainty that this would be revenge.

He brought his heavy black boot down on your ankle with force, making you hiss in pain.

"Simply didn't take you for a pussy owner, that's all. Not a problem, though." He shifted a bit more of his weight on your ankle, clearly enjoying the grimace you made as you barely suppressed a scream. "Now show me that junk again."

"What?! No!"

You couldn't help but sound offended. Why on earth would you--

With a single swift motion, he pushed the tip of his big hunting knife against the soft part of your stomach.

"That wasn't a request."

You froze, barely fighting back as he pushed your leg away with his free hand, revealing both your crotch and the fact that your hand had stayed where it had been before the beginning of this whole ordeal.

"Oh, don't mind me. Just keep going", he almost purred as he pushed a knee between your legs and took out his camera.

You could feel your tears coming back again, face turning red-hot with shame.

"Can't you just fucking kill me faster you dipshit?"

The walls of the barrel seemed to close in around you. You couldn’t bear to face him. There was a mechanical clicking as the lense found focus on your face, a sound now awfully familiar to you. For how long had he been following you?!

"You know what?" _Click_. "I think I won't. There would be no fun in putting you out of your misery now, wouldn't there?"

_Click. Click._

You couldn't quite describe what you yearned for more: To die right this second, or to break every single bone in his body. He slowly trailed the blade down from your stomach to the hand resting between your legs, giving it a small pinch.

"Move that. No need to be shy."

He huffed, seemingly thinking he was being funny. Fucker. Taking a deep shaky breath, you slowly obliged and pulled your fingers out of your insides.

"Shiiiit, look at how wet you are. Just can’t stop yourself from thinking about me."

You could _hear_ that shit eating grin. God, you wanted to hurt him so badly. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him turning the camera focus downwards.

"Fuck. Please don't."

There was no hiding the fear in your voice now. What if he told the others? What if those pictures got into the wrong hands? The air around you suddenly felt too heavy to breathe.

"Oooh, begging already? Nah, nah, nah, we can't have that. Didn't even sound sincere, don't you think?"

"No you don't understand, _please_ -"

You had started to move forward in a pointless attempt to put yourself in any kind of position to negotiate with him when he had suddenly flipped the knife over the back of his hand. The blade was now pressing through your shirt and through the top layer of skin on your belly, drawing blood. You barely dared to move as you followed the push of the blade against your body, forcing you back down. The hand you had shakily raised to cover your mouth again could not suppress your whimper.

"Hm. You seem a little bit tense. Here, lemme lend you a hand."

He let the camera vanish between the folds of his shroud again before wiping his gloved hand through the little pool of blood that had formed on your lower stomach beneath the blade. With two of his leather clad fingertips, he slowly drew a red trail from there to your entrance, pausing for a second.

"Now where did you leave off?"

He didn't wait for an answer, pushing both fingers inside you without any further warning. He almost reacted too slow to pull the knife away from your body as your hips jolted up uncontrollably, barely preventing you from gutting yourself like a fish. Despite your best efforts, you let out a soft moan. _Oh_ _fuck_. You had entirely forgotten about that. You could hear him laugh to himself as he repeatedly pushed his fingers inside of you at a rough pace, almost making you double over. 

"Look at that. Almost creaming yourself from that little bit of fingering."

He seemed not yet content with the bloody mess he had turned you into. Leaning in to close what little distance was left between the two of you, he whispered: "I'll make you scream."


	2. Chapter 2

Your head swam with fear and questions as your body gave way to his probing hand. How dare that fucking bastard put his disgusting gloves inside of you?! The stretching of his broader fingers alone made it hard not to squirm, though, while the rough texture of the leather almost had you lose your mind. There was no way you would give that asshole the satisfaction of just coming on his hand like some lapdog. But you wouldn’t be able to hold back for much longer either. 

As if he had heard your thoughts, he suddenly twisted his hand, pushing in deep. You bit your palm just hard enough to stifle that scream into a whimper. Almost. 

“Quite the situation I have on my hands here. The most annoying piss bag of the Fog trapped like a mouse in front of me and riding my fingers like a needy little slut. Ah, but what to do with you?”

He leaned forward, his thumb resting on your clearly erect dick now. Your body tensed in anticipation. To your surprise, he pressed the fingers resting inside of you upwards, making you see stars. Only then did he start to circle his thumb, painfully slowly. You slammed your fist against the concrete, barely strangling another moan, earning you an amused huff. No, not like this. Not for him of all people. Fucking hell. Yet your resolve was dwindling down fast; the scumbag knew what he was doing. 

Then again, it was not like you were getting out of this one alive. A fuck is a fuck. And at this point you would probably hump a goddamn tree. Might as well get off while you still had the chance. 

But… admitting defeat? To _him_?

“Hold still.”

The tip of his long shiny blade started to part the top layers of your skin as he slowly trailed the knife down from your knee towards your crotch. You hissed at the burning pain, immediately tensing around the fingers inside you as they pushed deeper again. 

“Getting real tight now, are we? Is that what gets you going, you little freak?” 

The sensation was so overwhelming. The nasty, wet sounds coming from between your legs pretty much answered his question for you. You had never felt so ashamed in your life. 

“P-please.”

Oh god. You pressed your hand tighter around your mouth again. It had been nothing more than a whisper. Maybe he hadn’t heard you? You could feel him staring through that ridiculous mask of his as he slowed down his movements.

“Please what. Want me to stop, whore?”

Well shit. You wanted to yell at him to let you go, to let you… let you do what? You wanted to come so badly, needed to finally _come._ And you were really damn shit at making a secret out of it. 

“C’mon, speak your mind. I’m all ears.”

And there was that fucking grin again. You would trade both of your arms for a chance to kick his teeth in right now, but your pants around your ankles made moving your legs any further impossible. Instead you just shook your head like a defiant little brat. Very convincing argument.

He suddenly grabbed your wrist and yanked it away from your face with the knife still in hand, pushing his fingers in deep again at the same time. “Couldn’t quite hear you there.” Your surprised yelp turned into a full grown moan about half-way through.

“ _Goddd--_ “ You could feel your orgasm building up. Shit shit shit.

He stopped. The fucker just stopped. Looking at you, seemingly expecting some answer, blade resting on your chest. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Still staring at you, he abruptly pulled out.

“W-wait. Please, I--” 

You hesitated, the sudden feeling of emptiness and cool night air between your legs making you painfully aware of your nakedness in front of your enemy. Why was this all so confusing? You weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or scream or just to be fucked senseless. This was all so much. Every movement of his made you want to beg for terrible things. You could feel a tear running down your face as you swallowed what little was left of your pride. _Wer ficken will, muss freundlich sein_.

“More, please.” 

“More? Oh, you will get more, you needy little shit.” 

He stood up to make a small step away from the barrel. Then he abruptly grabbed your ankles and dragged you out in the open with him to turn you on your stomach with a sharp kick of his boot. You winced in pain, but before you could get up or even wonder what on earth was going on _now_ , you could feel him positioning himself right behind you. Gripping your hips with both hands, he pulled you up on your knees, grinding the rock hard erection hidden under his clothes against your ass. You could clearly hear the labored breathing coming from under his mask right next to your ear. 

“Don’t think you deserve getting my knife buried to the hilt inside of your guts quite yet, slut.”

The moisture of his breath made the hair on your neck stand up.

“Wha--”

He suddenly let go of you, making you fall to your arms and knees. Before you could get up again, his sullied glove hit the ground next to you.

“What… what are you doing?” 

He huffed.

“More.” 

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he held you in place and pushed you against his body. You could feel his now naked fingers back at your entrance. All of them?! Instinctively you tried to pull away, but his iron grasp kept you locked in place as he pushed more and more of his hand down your wet and squirming insides. The meager rest of your panicked resistance broke in an instant as he reached the first tender ring of muscles. Your body pushed back against him almost on its own accord, as if hoping to stretch your tight hole around him and give him deeper access. You barely registered his laughing as you desperately ground yourself against him, only to have him pull away from you again a moment later.

“Please.” It didn’t even really sound like you anymore. “Please! Please let me come.” You only now noticed your sobbing. When had you started crying again?

As he pushed his fist back in, your muscles were clenching around him so tightly that it felt like he was splitting you in half. Your eyes rolled back, your entire body shaking. As soon as he started to properly move inside of you, the force of your sudden orgasm almost ripped you apart. Distantly you could hear yourself screaming, felt your legs thrashing around under you, nails digging into the dirt and clinging onto anything for dear life while wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. 

Instead of slowing down, he picked up the pace, pressing deeper into your spasming insides while laughing like a maniac. No fucking way could you bear this any second longer.

Then you came again. 

Every thought was just gone. You felt like you could see shapes in the nothingness behind your eyes that had no name before they quickly faded back to black. 

It took you a good minute to come around again this time. You couldn’t recall your arms giving away under you. You were laying face-first in the dirt, covered with tears and drool and snot. He was _still_ fucking into you, albeit at a much slower pace, letting you recover from… whatever the fuck that was. Holy shit. You tasted blood in your mouth. For how long had you been screaming? 

Oh god. What had you done?

As he noticed you coming back to your senses, he removed himself from your body, slapping your ass loudly before he just dropped you into the dirt like a used towel. You only gave a small whimper in response, throat too sore for an actual complaint.

“Pff. ‘That all you got?”

You could hear him taking a few steps around you before kneeling down next to your head. Suddenly he yanked you up by a fist full of your hair.

“I somehow expected more of you. Kinda pathetic, actually.” 

After all of your harsh back and forth, that one still stung for some reason. Before you could wonder why or start to think of some smartass comeback, he had begun to clean his dirty hand on your face. That got you moving. As soon as you tried to pull away however, he slapped you hard enough to blur your vision for a couple of seconds.

“Turns out, after all this teasing and moaning, all you’ve got is a big mouth and nothing to back it up with.”

A blinding flash. _Click_.

You tried to cover your swelling face from the light, but an angry shake of his hand in your hair stopped you in your movement. 

“Hold still, slut. This is the least you owe me for my gracious service.” 

He pensively stared at his camera, then -- without a warning -- let go of your hair to stand up. Your chin smashed into the ground hard enough that you could hear your teeth crack. More blood in your mouth. Great.

“Hm…”

He rolled you on your back with the tip of his shoe. _Flash. Click_ . Crouching again, looking for another angle. _Flash. Click._ You were in so much shit now but you still didn’t dare to move; your ribs hurt badly enough from the last couple of times he had kicked you. Would you be able to outrun him after he almost sprained your ankle earlier…?

“No, not quite there yet.”

As if he had heard your thoughts, he suddenly pinned you down with a boot on your shoulder. Meanwhile, his free hand moved his gown aside to zip his pants open. _No fucking way_.

He gave his now half-erect dick a few strokes while looking down at you, enjoying the pained whimpering that came gurgling out of your mouth each time he pressed his boot further down on your bones.

“Ahh… better.” 

_Flash. Click._

You could see how he struggled to angle the camera so he could fit his ugly dick into the picture. Idiot. The mechanical sounds made your thoughts race, however. Each of these pictures was a testimony of your lack of resolve, your loss against your nemesis. Each click felt like the crack of a whip on your skin.

“Are you done yet?”

You tried to make it sound annoyed and bored, but it was fear that made you speak up. Another kick to the side and you involuntarily doubled over. Pretty sure he cracked a rib this time. _Flash. Click._ Suddenly all air rushed out of your lungs as he kneeled down on your chest, his dick coming uncomfortably close to your face.

“You know, I was thinking. What if I see for myself how big that loose mouth of yours is?” 


	3. Chapter 3

His weight on your chest was almost too much to bear. You could barely breathe. 

“Open uuuup. No funny business or I will have you beg for your death for the next couple of nights.”

You spat out some of your blood on the ground next to you. Out of all the countless deaths you’ve had in the Fog, this must be the most undignified one. Choked to death on Ghostface’s nasty cock. How did this happen?

He must have mistaken your pause for one final attempt at resistance. 

He let himself slide from your rib cage down next to your head, making you unable to even so much as move your face with his knees left and right of you. His left hand protectively clutched the camera to his chest, a movement so out of place it seemed almost comical. His right hand, however, caught your full attention a second later as he gently brushed a strand of your hair aside from your face. The sudden intimacy of the situation gave you an odd feeling in your chest until you understood that he was not doing this for your sake. His thumb and index came to rest on both sides of the bridge of your nose, almost tenderly moving up and down the ridge. Your heart sank, heavy like a stone. The mental echo of the crack in that bathroom stall suddenly left a bitter taste in your mouth. You knew what would come next and that there was no point in begging. 

"I will comply.” 

“Oh, I know you will.” 

You closed your eyes. Breathing in shakingly, you tried to somehow brace yourself for the pain. _Click._ The skull piercing crunch never came. Instead, he pinched your nose shut so you opened your mouth for a surprised gulp of air. He didn’t waste time before he plunged his dick between your now parted lips with a low sigh. He tasted terrible in enough ways to have you think of the blood in your mouth as a blessing. After one last picture, he finally put the stupid camera away, only so he could grip your hair and hold you in place while he fucked into your mouth. 

You gagged several times as he pushed in too deep, which he only acknowledged by laughing quietly while he continued to thrust into you. It felt so degrading to be nothing but a hole to someone, to _him_ out of all people. To see how hard he got from your pain and embarrassment, using you solely for his own pleasure. It didn’t leave you unaffected, either. You could feel the sore bits between your legs swell up again, yearning for friction. You had sunken so low into depravity today, you fucking might as well. Slowly as to not catch his attention, you moved your hand back to your crotch, still slick and wet from before. 

Somehow, it felt like doing something forbidden. Yet you couldn’t quite bring yourself to care anymore.

The more erratic his movements on top of you became, the harder it was for you to breathe. More and more of his weight was resting on your throat, making you wonder if he could snap your neck with his hips alone before you passed out from the lack of oxygen. His breathing became harder and labored above you as he pushed his dick deeper down your throat with every thrust, making your head turn red between the gagging and the tears. 

The lack of air had you feeling all light-headed. Mental images of him thrusting into other places the way he was fucking your mouth had you moaning softly around him. He paused in his movements, head tilted back in ecstasy, before he rammed himself back into you hard enough to almost make you faint. The corner of your vision was getting dark and blurry as you took him down as deeply as you could manage. With a final, deep grunt, he shot his cum down your abused throat with no way for you to keep it out, your hips arching up on their own in response. Pulling out after a few seconds, he covered your face and hair with the rest of his seed while you struggled for air. 

The camera had found its way back into his hands again. _Click._

He sighed, relieved.

“Perfect.”

Finally he got up from you, giving you time to retch and cough to your heart’s content as you tried to drown out the bitter taste of his cum with blood and spittle. Quickly, you hid your dirty hand -- who knows what terrible ideas he might get if he thought you enjoyed this.

“Not bad, slut.”

He towered over you, trying to catch his breath as he shook the last drops of his cum off and onto you. It took you a couple of seconds to react. 

“F-... Shut the… fuck up…” 

Talking felt like the most exhausting thing in the world. Your throat hurt like hell. The stars behind him seemed to slightly spin and reset to their original position over and over again while your body felt too heavy, almost as if it were stuck to the ground. The fuck was going on? Had that bitch given you a fucking concussion?

“No shit talking left in you? Guess it’s true what they say about sassy bitches just needing someone to fuck them prop--”

“I will fucking murder you in your sleep”, you coughed, “if you don’t shut your stupid mouth right about now.” 

“Ah, there we go.”

He almost sounded... relieved? Was that shitbag taking pity on you?!

“Listen fuckface, this isn’t over yet,” you wheezed between two more coughs. “You caught me in a bad spot today and it won’t happen again. Next time I see you, I’ll make you piss yourself and have you beg for your mommy, you nasty fuck.”

“Hear ye!”

The amusement in his voice hurt more than any insult he could have spat at you. Probably didn’t sound as intimidating as you’d hoped for with you lying on the floor soaked in his cum and your own spit and blood. 

“Taking your mouth pretty full for someone whose head just got used as a fuck hole.” He half-heartedly kicked you in the side again, making you growl in pain. Then, he rubbed his boot clean on the remnants of your shirt. “Listen punk, lemme give you a word of advice: If I were you, I’d drag my sorry ass out of here before the smell of blood and bodily fluids attracts the scavengers. You weren’t exactly quiet during your little… episode earlier either, you know.” 

He huffed. Without another word you heard him grab his glove off the ground next to you. Finally, the steps of his boots on the gravel moved away until you couldn’t tell them apart from the other sounds of the night, leaving you to yourself. 

What was this? Why wasn’t he killing you off? Did he think he had tamed you with this or some shit?! Fuck. _Fuck him_. Of course you knew you couldn’t stay here. But every part of your body hurt like hell: Cuts from the stones under you, cuts from his knife, every bit of your body he had kicked or beaten, let alone the orifices he had stuffed. You groaned before you rolled over and slowly got onto your hands and knees, then groaned some more as the ground started spinning again. Finally, you managed to get up and listen. 

Silence.

Not even the three-times-cursed clicking of his camera. Fucking splendid. You finally got your pants back up, did your best to wipe the cum out of your face and hair, straightened what was left of your shirt and took a look around. He had given you a good beating in more ways than one, but somehow you were still alive. There were no two ways about it, though -- dying would have been the better option for you. Who knows what he could do with those pictures. 

The thought of him wanking to the sight of your beaten-up body made you feel even more sick. That would be the least of your worries, should he manage to have those pictures developed. Probably nothing the Entity couldn’t do if given the correct offering. 

Several killers were known for getting touchy with the girls, and, while you had been spared from most of that until now, you didn’t want to find out if some of them would change their mind if they learned about your secret. The thought alone almost made you throw up. What would your friends think if they learned you slept with the enemy and enjoyed quite some of it? Did that asshole know how much power he had over you now? 

You shuddered in the cold of the night. You would find out, one way or another.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm still kinda new to writing fanfic so if there is something you liked in particular or something you think I could improve upon, please let me know!


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